Imperium
by JustObviousAnswers
Summary: Brilliance is assumed to be quantifiable; but how do you measure magical brilliance? What if the power the Dark Lord knows not, is intelligence? Harry James Potter; a gifted child with intellect beyond his age, hides in the shadow of a boring quiet orphaned boy in an attempt to take the Wizarding World by surprise. H/Hr !evilWeasleys
1. The Early Years

_I do not own, nor will ever own the Harry Potter Series - or any of its subsidiaries._

* * *

 _"Once there was a young man.. who like you, sat in this very hall.. walked this castles corridor's.. stepped under its roof._

 _And seemed to all the world a student, like any other.. his name?_

 _Tom Riddle_

 _Today, of course, he's known all over the world by another name._

 _Which is why, as I stand, looking upon you all tonight. I'm reminded of a sobering fact._

 _Every day, every hour, this very minute perhaps._

 _Dark forces attempt to penetrate these castle walls, but in the end - their greatest weapon; is you."_

* * *

 _~ Chapter I: The Early Years ~_

* * *

 _8th of November, 1982 ~ Afton, Isle of Wight_

The music-room in the Minister's Mansion of Port Mahon, a tall, handsome, pillared octagon, was filled with the triumphant first movement of Locatelli's C major quartet. The players; Veela-Quatuor, consciously positioned against the far wall by rows and rows of little round gilt chairs - were playing with passionate conviction as they mounted towards the penultimate crescendo down to the tremendous pause of a deep liberating final cord.

All of the assembled audience were enthralled with equal intensity as the players, not just by their practiced fingers but even the mere presence of the mystically beautiful beings. Despite having the fore-thought consciousness to resist the natural charm the French maidens claimed upon them, they were helpless to resist - _how could anyone?_

This, of course, was the intent of their host, as such 'charity' events were positioned to be used for nothing but lubricious deeds where he needed every assistance possible. Cornelius Oswald Fudge was, bargain trading as any Minister of Magic has done thousands of times before. Their choice of meat was always the same; a deposit in the election war chest in exchange for other nefarious requests; future fore-knowledge of international trade negotiations, a word of dedicated service in the prophet, or slight changes in slander regulation laws.. the works.

The most common request of recent however was uniquely unorthodox to prior; an invitation to the premier events around the world at the Ministers side. With word of the upcoming events of the year; like the Quidditch World Cup, many were clamoring for a position at the best seats available - the private Minister box.

Yes, the Minister of Magic was looking at tough re-election and needed every sickle and galleon he could suck out of the wealthy men gathered before him. So, seats were sold away at the highest auction in their silent bid war – which took place in between each of party events he had planned for the evening as the Lords and Ladies gathered were looking down at their charmed parchment. On it was the current bid pricing of the up-for-sale seat. They had started at just the invitations to the Minsters box, the cheapest seats initial bid set at a mear hundred galleons; and made their way across the list to the most sought after seats - right next to the minister himself.

With the final echoing chord, the crowd erupted in tumultuous applause; as the women regained their senses - they resisted bifurcating their dates at the degrading looks the men were giving the ensemble. Feigning for a distraction they proceeded to turn their attention to the final bid; after some time and much trash talk – the seats closest to the minister was sold away at a 'meager' 50,000 galleons to Theodore Nott.

The evening had reached it's conclusion, and the Minister gave a denouement for the evening summing what is to be expected at the Wizengamot for the Winter Solstice and how he was looking forward to seeing all of them again after the break.

* * *

"Fucking quisling, why would we listen to a word she says?" some of the men gave a smirk at the statement. "I mean really, what does she expect to happen; for this filth to actually pass through? I'll break Marchbanks fuckin' neck before I let that happen!"

Cornelius sighed; it was always like this after one of his events - the conservatives (mostly 'ex'-death eaters) were always the richest men at his charities and therefore joined in his after-party drinks for more meat trading. As per usual the first hour was spent trashing the more 'Light' legislation that was currently passing through the Wizengamot for vote. Unfortunately for Cornelius's growing headache, there was quite a liberal proposal facing the current Legislation: a well worded parley for all muggle-born/half-blood witchs and wizards that meet untimely deaths during the war see compensation to their families for loss of life by their killer(s).

As a brilliant politician Cornelius was un-surprised; only a year after the Dark-Lords defeat, and a few months after the Imperius Trials - the Light was taking advantage at the weakened state of the Dark. They were, of course, unhappy with the results of the Trials; even with the most foul death-eaters found guilty to life in Azkaban - many had still evaded jail by claiming they were under the Imperious Curse. Most of Voldemort's followers; Lucius, Yaxley, Macnair, Amycus, Nott, Goyle, Avery, and the Carrows were in fact in this very room. Cornelius smiled at the thought of what a picture of their current setting would sell for to the Prophet. If anyone knew of their continued influence after the war, there would be riots in the streets - but as any good leader knew; ignorance was bliss to the sheep.

"Yaxley.." Lucius began with a disapproving sigh, "we cannot, given the current climate, openly go against this proposition. It would give _Amelia",_ he spat the name out with harsh venom, "the perfect ammunition to continue investigating into our dealings, something I would rather avoid." Macnair, and Nott nodded their heads in agreement, while Yaxley flashed looks around the room before leaning back in his chair scowling.

He was right of course, the Minister mused thoughtfully, Amelia Bones Department was now more powerful than ever. With increased funds from the war, the Light backing her every move, and the Order feeding crucial information she was an unstoppable power. A power that as Minister, Cornelius had no way of controlling without raising suspicion.

Looking around the room, he could see the others agreement with Lucius's statement and decided to speak up; "What the Light are asking for, _on paper_ , is atrocious yes. But after it's gone through the Wizengamot; and my office, you can rest assured the money you lose will be but a small cut compared to our overall wealth. Something I'm sure after a few 'quiet' years, will be easily regained.." He gave a reassuring smile, which seemed to lighten the mood of the 'ex'-death eaters. Lucius gave a disapproving glance of the way he had taken all the credit, but said nothing - instead divulging himself to more firewhiskey.

Not yet sated Yaxley looked towards the politician; "What of the boy? Did you find where that codger is keeping him?"

Fudge frowned "As I've said before, Albus is keeping the Potter child's location a closely guarded secret, and I have reason to believe he is under the Fidelus plus many other impenetrable wards.. it would be unwise to spend resources trying to locate him at the moment." Cornelius pondered for a moment before trying a more apt approach with the blood-lust man. "However, with the upcoming ceremony; I suspect that he will be moved from his current location to a more permanent residence – most likely with one of the Order Members, an old friend of the Potters."

Many heads in the room perked up at this; Macnair immediately questioned it – "How solid is this information, surely the Order would not be foolish enough to think the boy is safe with our Lords defeat?"

The Minister smiled cruelly; "It is in fact impossible to be otherwise; Albion Magic dictates that an orphan child has to live with one of the names listed on the deceased parental will. In a few days I will be reading the Potter Will with Albus, and we will have a full list of who he will be going to."

Lucius, eyes still staring into the roaring hearth on the Eastern wall, waved a dismissing hand; "Again, it matters not – we are in no position to launch a full scale attack against the Order. Should they learn that we intend to strike against the boy, they will come for us entirely; and there will be no Imperius claim to fall back on." Turning he regarded Yaxley with malice filled glare, "Deception and patience is key until our Lord returns, something you will have to learn in strides Corban."

The man scowled but did not quip back, instead opting to down his firewhiskey and stand. "Fine, but I will not stop searching for our Lord – I've heard rumors of dark magic being used in Bulgaria; I'll be there until the Solstice." He nodded towards the others before striding out the door.

A belayed pause filled the air before they continued their conversation on the incoming Romanian trade-deals, slowly bringing the evening to a close. A short while later Cornelius found himself biding adeu to Nott and Amycus in the foyer; with a resounding _*crack*_ he was alone with a man he so loathed; Lucius.

Regarding the slytherin with a telling glare, the platinum haired man scoffed; "He's rash, yes, but will not be a problem any longer - I feel there is more bark than bite to his words." Eyes narrowing, Cornelius said nothing; the choice of words.. the general laziness of not taking action.. either the Malfoy Head of House had lost his edge since the dark lords defeat or the statement was a test. He suspected the latter; the man was always cunning - and used every opportunity to extract information from both enemies, and allies.

"We shall see during the ceremony; _Order of Merlin First Class_ to the Potter boy will be pressing on Yaxley's limited restraint - if he does intend to act on his words.. well, I don't have to tell you what must be done?" Cornelius smiled cruelly, while Lucius nodded his head. The small twinkle of approval in the man's eyes gave away intention of the test; he wanted someone outside the Inner Circle to deal with Corbon should it be needed. It would not due at the moment for there to be cracks in their already fragile trust, and as Minister - it gave Cornelius the unique opportunity to be in appearance with his position by reining in the groups more reactive members.

"Goodnight Cornelius, I shall see you at the Solstice" Lucius said, stepping out of the Manors wards – he silently apparated without waiting for a response. The Minister closed the door, thoughts already drifting to the next days events – _World Cup negotiations with Delacour in the morning, I wonder if he'll bring that half-blood daughter of his with the entourage.._

* * *

 _3rd of September, 1988 ~ Epsom, UK ~ Year Three, Lower School_

Messy black hair, high cheek bones, and soft unblemished skin adored the child sitting alone in the back of art class. Harry Potter, was without doubt, the most beautiful child of their generation and damned if everyone didn't know it. No child could compare to those emerald green eye as they swept across jealous glares making even grown woman freeze in place disrupting inappropriate thoughts.

A silent child, they called him in whispered conversation – soft spoken; but when voiced could enchant your thoughts, and ensnare your attention. His movements a natural grace, his lithe build hiding the speed and dexterity of a champion Olympian. In their athletic activities he was not the strongest, nor the fastest – but many saw the lie for what it was. The way he could avoid bullies with practiced ease, or when cornered escape without a scratch told the truth.

The most deceitful of all was his intelligence; the cunning brilliance glowing behind his eyes was a giving tell. However the boys grades were average at best, and the adults questioned it constantly.

In fact today the administrative body decided to take interest and deliver an unknowing test to his class. After much discussion it was decided art was the best trial, innocent painting of colors that, to the young, was always a messy exercise but could display hidden intelligence from some.

Mrs. Lewis glanced at her target, sitting absently relaxed but postured in his chair – eyes scanning slowly over a tattered hardcover novel clearly from the school library. She glanced at the cover curiously, eyes slowly widening in surprise – _the Bible?_

After a moments pause in surprise, gaze torn away she was forced to bring the class under control with the increasing disruption and noise. "Attention class!" she sounded in a commanding noise, the class noise wavered lightly but continued in their gleeful laughter and conversation. "Attention please!" she attempted again louder with a frown. Flinching at the sound of a thick book snapping shut, the general noise quickly died out. The sound itself seemed to draw more faces to the front of the class, than her own voice – something she dismissed as imagination.

As they quieted, she smiled finally; with an air of annoyance towards her strained patience. "Today we'll be working on our brush painting" the class cheered with bright smiles, making the women sigh. "One row at a time, come collect a brush, a few tubes of paint, and a palet.." all the aisles as one started to get up immediately. "ONE ROW AT A TIME!" she snapped harshly, making all the kids return to their seats disappointed.

Berating her now checked temper; she glanced at the patiently waiting black haired boy with a smile.

"Thank you, now please - row one come up.." after much haranguing – she got the students settled into their paintings.

Patiently giving them time to think of what to paint then proceed she watched the class, then intrigued decided to wander. Drifting between the rows corralling some of the boys from chewing brushes, she remarked each drawing with disappointment. So far their pictures were at best mediocre, but it did little to dissuade her hope; they were after all only second graders. Giving each child a genuine smile, and some praise – they continued painting.

Finally, after some time, she made it to the back row; crossing empty seats to the alone child. With the easel turned away she could not see his painting, instead regarded his measured face. Head tilted in thought, the boy was enwrapped in his swirling brush – _he's so damn cute_. Looking towards his palet she could see Harry had mixed together primary colors to get a variety of secondary colors; separated in perfect little globs.

Taking notice of her presence; Harry regarded his teachers enthralled stare – embarrassed she distracted him. "Feeling okay Harry?" she asked.

His eyebrows furrowed, but gave a small nod as if confused to what she asked.

"You're just so quiet.." she explained, to which he looked away before turning back to her with an angelic smile.

"I'm fine" he answered in a musical voice.

Mrs. Lewis decided he had the voice to sing when he got older. She just smiled softly.

"Okay then, can I see what you're drawing?"

Nodding, she stepped around the easel expecting to see a couple splats of color or the infamous stick figure house with a couple lips of grass. What she saw instead made the woman freeze, open mouth in absolute shock. Staring for a few minutes she noticed the child beside her didn't even blink just returned to art, stroking the paper lightly. The painting, was in simple terms; beautiful. A lighthouse standing at the edge of a cliff, overlooking a crescent bay reflecting the falling sun disappearing below the waves.

As an art appreciator herself, the minor details were not missed by Mrs. Lewis; perfectly sculpted shading, reflective shadowing, and even lips of waves captured the color blends uniquely. It was the type of painting she would have to spend weeks working on without coming even close in detail, yet this young boy had done it in under an hour. She barely noted Harry gently setting his brush down to look it over.

"T-that's amazing Harry" she stuttered out, unknowingly drawing some nearby students attention.

Some of them gathered around to look in wonder, most didn't understand what it was – or what was so significant about the picture. But before Mrs. Lewis could request showing the lovely art to some of her colleagues; a troublemaker boy who had been taken to the principal office on more than one occasion came over. All it took was the flick of a paintbrush, and a dark black line flickered across the painting - instantly ruining it.

Mrs. Lewis never felt the need to hit a child before that day, but in that moment, without thought, her arm flipped up in an open hand and came crashing down hard against the child's head. A resounding smack, and the squeaky yelp of the student delivered the necessary punishment. As Mrs. Lewis berated the boy for his actions, she didn't notice the darkened look in the young Potters eye; or his hard instinctive flinch away from her simple hand gesture.

Leading the young troublemaker out the door, she left the class to continue the art as she walked to the principal's office - red faced boy in tow.

Just as she was returning a few minutes later, the lunch bell rang and most the students made their way out the door. Mrs. Lewis searched for Harry in the growing crowd feeling heavy heart as she lost sight of the dark haired boy. _He must of left early_ she thought absentmindedly, changing her gaze to the stack of today's artwork in the outgoing project bin – only to discover his project gone. A little crestfallen, she realized the other teachers wouldn't believe her when she described the artwork to them at lunch – she decided instead to keep what she learned to herself.. for now.

* * *

 _23rd of November, 1988 ~ Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey, UK_

The belt hit his back with a sharp crack. Harry barely flinched, eyes a dulled green as he lay on the chair almost motionless. Blood ran down his bare back, but he could no longer feel the pain – hell he couldn't even feel the chair he was leaning over. He assumed it was his body's way of coping with the pain, numbing all nerve receptors – everywhere.

"That'll teach you to pass- " he slapped the metal end down again, "with better marks than Dudley-" he delivered the most powerful strike of all making Harry yelp instinctively, faking the pain. "- cheating freak." Vernon finished, re-clapsing the belt around his waist, as Harry's heavy breathing started to slow; and he slumped into the wood.

Not letting the boy rest, Vernon violently grabbed his sweat covered hair; dragging him from the kitchen across the wooden floor - careful to avoid the white carpet with his blood. Unlatching the bolt, he threw Harry within the cupboard - hearing the hard snap of his head colliding with the backboard.

"I better see those grades drop boy, or I'll chain you out with the trash" he spat, the report card Harry had been so careful to hide in his cupboard for the past week held like a weapon in the air. Harry's lip quivered, and he looked away in shame - not for getting good grades, but for being _caught_ getting good grades. Harry knew from past experience that Vernon would be furious his own son's education was dipping below the filth he was in charge of.

Vernon now sated, slammed the door shut; the walls shaking from the collision - then after a moments pause his weight pounded on the stairs as he retreated for the night. Harry body collapsed against the unwashed sheets, his blood soaking into the stained fabric - but he didn't even notice, nor care. His cuts and bruises would heal soon, they always did. Harry knew not why or how; just that he never had an injury for more than a day. He thought he was cursed, forced to endure Vernon's beatings everyday without the proof to report him.

Wet emerald green eyes stared up at the ceiling; mind whirling with emotions - anger, frustration, and longing. Longing to not feel like this, to be helpless in a broken system; helpless against his jailers. He wiped away a drip of sweat, as it traveled down his forehead to his eyes. _What to do? Should I try to leave?_

He always eyed the open gates of the school during recess; his heart yearning to be released from his prison - the endless cycle of hate. _But where would I go?_

At home they hated him, looked down on him, beat him, made him _submit_ everyday.

At school they despised him, were jealous of his beauty, his talent.

In public, whenever he was dragged along; people looked down on him, Vernon told them he was a stray they picked up - a beggar child without a home.

He had nobody, no place to go, no people to see - he was.. _alone._

Harry cried into his sheets that night; admonishing himself for the weakness of his eyes - but the soft, muffled sobs continued without care.

 _Alone._

* * *

 _13th of November, 1982 ~ Minister's Office, Ministry of Magic, London, UK_

Cornelius sighed; across his rosewood desk was the source of his growing irritation – Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. A name as long as his ego; was denying him elegantly of everything he had hoped to accomplish today. But as a politician he could not help but want to tip his hat to the wizard, it wasn't everyday Cornelius found himself stuck without solution.

"So, let's reiterate – because this conversation has become repetitive and I'd rather we save our limited pleasantries for public appearances" Cornelius quipped before Albus had a chance to respond. "You will not risk the Potter boy receiving his _Order of Merlin_ because at this time you believe there are still some who wish to harm him."

Albus said nothing, just simply nodding his head – making the minister scowl "Wouldn't it be more prudent for you to tell me _who_ you believe threatens the boys life so I can communicate to Amelia who to be wary of at the event?"

"Hm yes, but seeing as I've already done that; and Amelia cannot arrest people before they've committed a crime – there is little assurance that the DMLE will be able to protect him. Instead, I suggest we give the honor without Harry's presence – he is after all just a baby. It has little effect on the political aspects you were hoping to gain from the award, so there is no loss to the Ministry in its rebuilding efforts." Albus explained simply, with a righteous smile – his eyes challenging for the Minister to disagree.

Of course, he was smart enough not to take the rising bait – and instead leaned back in his throne of a chair. Rubbing a hand across his face, he gestured to the Will laying across his desk. "You are, _as always_ , correct Albus. I just hoping to honor James Potters son properly; we will of course award James and Lily post-humorously along with their son" he faked a thoughtful pause. "It saddens me that there is not more we can do for the savior of our world, and the last heir of such an Noble House."

He awaited for Albus to say something in agreement, but only noticed his angry gaze drift over the will in front of them. Cornelius coughed to break the rising tension; "What of the boy's holdings" he continued failing to notice the wizard's flash of annoyance. "Gringotts restricts access to only those listed on such Will but with the right motivation.."

Albus raised a hand stopping him - flicking his wrist, producing a letter from the air; reading a few lines from it before handing it over to the minister.

As he read the parchment, Albus spoke watching the man's eyes - "I've already spoken to Ragnok, and he has.. Obstructed any involvement from myself or anyone listed on that will from touching the Potter fortune; depositing or withdrawing. He is under the impression that some would take advantage of Harry's inability to speak for himself; and has frozen the Potter Accounts."

Cornelius's was briefly stunned; Ragnok was the President of Gringotts, and Commander of the British Goblin Forces - a goblin only a few souls had ever spoken to in person. The Minister had only twice the unpleasant occasion, and he had seen the Goblin as stoic, and un-corruptible; enough information for the Minister to not need a third occasion.

For Ragnok to directly speak on the Potter situation spoke volumes to what the Goblins role in the Potter boy's future would be. His presence was only ever required during the negotiation, or decision of the banks most troubling concerns - otherwise he left it to his hand selected Department Heads. The Minister swallowed this information harshly, while he wanted to take some of the massive Potter fortune for himself; he would never attempt to heavy hand the Goblins. Wise in length, and as cunning as Salazar Slytherin himself – the Goblins were not to be trifled with; especially when Ragnok himself had made the decision.

Glancing across the desk, he could see the similar thoughts reflected in older eyes; coming to the same conclusion _– the Potter Accounts were out of their reach_. His attention drifted to other matters in saddened resolve; "Well" *cough* "now that the boy's Will has been read, I believe it is prudent; but most importantly, magically binding, that Harry be moved to one of his listed guardians."

Albus nodded; "Yes, as per Albion Magics – this has already been done." There was a long pause, before Cornelius realized the man was done speaking.

"Which guardian did the Ord- .. did _you_ choose?" he challenged the man to deny, and with an afterthought stood up walking over to pour himself a drink.

"His muggle relatives; Lily Evans sister, and her husband" the shorter man paused before pouring his drink.

To say that Cornelius was taken aback was an understatement; not only by the fact Albus, for once, had told him _who_ he left the boy with, but also that he had chosen the most unappealing of options. Taking his glass back over to the desk, he sat down cocking his head in question: "Why?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, and Fudge sank back in his chair; expecting a long speech in-coming - with the sip of brandy he was not disappointed.

Half-an hour later; the Minister finished a third glass of brandy, eyes drifting sleepily as the Hogwarts Headmaster finished his explanation of blood magic and their apparently useful properties.

"So in short, Lily's sacrifice for her son saved the boy's life - and he is now protected under that same magic at the Muggle relatives home" he shorted, sighing rather rudely.

Eyes narrowing at the Minister's obvious frustration Albus simply nodded his head. "This protection effects ( _theoretically_ ), anyone intending to do harm to the boy, yes?"

Again Albus nodded waving a hand, "I believe it is the most powerful magical ward any could ever procure; of course we've also added the standard wards - Fidelius Charm, maximum praesidium, fianto duri, etc."

The Minister nodded thoughtfully, half-drunk; and Albus slowly stood - collecting his paper's from the desk. "Well, if that is all Minister - I believe I'll be off, much negotiating to be done before the Winter Solstice after all." After a moment's pause, the Minister realized Albus was leaving, stood.

 _Speaking of which_ "Actually, before you go Albus, I had a request of sorts" he spoke rather sluggish at this point, _man that's some good liquor._

The tall, thin man turned back - his cloak swishing across the floor without touching it.

"I've been met with some.. _resistance_ , on my side of the aisle at this proposal Lady Marchbanks has submitted. I was hoping that you could provide some _assistance_ in lightening the intended reparations, it would be most.. _appreciated_." He paused, realizing he had given a little too much away at his current position; a foolish mistake of any politician. But with a slight grin, he realize that it was nothing Albus didn't already know; he recovered easily at the thought. "I, of course, only want to see swift justice for those poor families that have lost loved ones, as expeditiously as possible.. such a terrible war, so many lives wasted. So I believe you understand, it's best we attempt to repair, and move forward."

The Chief Warlock recognized an opportunity when he saw one, and understood that helping the Minister in this predicament would go a long way towards repair in Ministry. "I will talk it over with Lady Marchbanks, perhaps the initial proposal was a bit.. _overstretched_ in it's asking reparations."

The Minister nodded his head in thanks; " _Emeis thalithuanian mauti_ ", Albus recognize the greek saying; ' _we shall push on'._

"Indeed we shall Minister", he nodded back striding out the door. _Indeed we shall.._

* * *

 _4th of February, 1989 ~ Epsom, UK ~ Year Three, Lower School_

A light touch across the bow was all it took for his hand to desperately reach out and grab it. Running a calloused finger over the rosin bow; he felt the smooth horsehair delicately. Mrs. Lewis noticed this with light smile, but said nothing as she continued describing each chord of the violin. Harry tensed the strings, softly plucking each one as she talked; hearing the minor difference between them. After some time, Mrs. Lewis released the class to play; instructing them to pluck one string at a time in ascending order.

She was not surprised as the room filled with off-key plucking, some so harsh almost breaking the strings and sighed resentfully - closing her eyes to ease her already rising frustration. Something however perked her curiosity; a soft sound - A-minor, to g-minor stroke - eyes closed shut she searched for the source. _Next door.. maybe, Mr. Oveture was known to practice sheet music at this time of day._ She paused, trying to listen over the chatter and plucking. _No, its in the room.. in the back.._ Eyes flashing open she hungrily searched for the player, it only took a brief look for her to know who was producing the soft sounds. After all he was the only student with a bow raised across the strings.

Mrs. Lewis said nothing, just listened - closing her eyes at times to hear better over the class. Harry was playing a rising tempo; it started off slow and methodical, like a walk - and grew over time as if learning to run; rising in sound. The general noise had died as students listened to the melody; enthralled in the enchanting noise. Eyes wide in shock, she stared at the Potter boy; who had yet to notice his audience. Analyzing the bow confidently dancing across the chords as his fingers pushed new noise with each stroke; he was en wrapped in his play.

Blinking her eyes; Mrs. Lewis thought she saw the softest of glow around the boy - but dismissed it as a trick of light.

The music was suddenly familiar to each student; relaxing and comforting like a fond memory. Each note sounded the same; but brought different emotions - to the girls it was a romantic ballad. They imagined castle ballrooms; filled with elegantly dressed people spinning in practiced formation to the music, their hearts filling with love and affection. The boys imagined a battlefield; a ferocious fight between warriors in the fields of death, their chests filled with pride, and determination.

As Harry crescendo to a finish; he drew out a long G major bellow and looked up from his bow - his fellow classmates stared back with glazed eyes. One girl, accidentally dropped the instrument in her lap with a resounding crash; snapping everyone from their imagination.

Briefly flustered, Mrs. Lewis regained the class's attention and continued with the lesson as though nothing had happen. But, as she talked; curious eyes roved over the Potter boy as he continued to quietly pluck his strings - head tilted in thought. She came to the conclusion, without a second thought, that the boy had received prior advanced lessons at home and dismissed the complexity of the melody they had all heard.

* * *

 _7th of February, 1989 ~ Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey, UK_

Harry's body shook in absent pain, trying with all his will to keep it under control - he was once again helpless. Looking down at the cement, it was already pooling with blood; and his eyes blurred. Again, he felt little to no pain - but the pressure was a different story, he could feel the sensation of broken bones. Today, was one of the most brutal beatings he had ever received. Harry wasn't surprised, of course, when his homeroom teacher showed up at the Dursley Residence with questions of his advanced musical teachings - he knew tonight he wasn't going to sleep.

Vernon and Petunia, as always, had cunningly deceived his teacher - the same way they always escaped questions about him; charm and innocence. _"Why yes, we've been tutoring Harry on instruments since he was five! A lovely boy yes, excellent with his fingers - gosh, I'm so glad to hear you feel the same. Of course were very proud; I've been telling Petunia we should all go to one of the local orchestral concerts, see if the boy has an interest towards the Arts."_ This statement was all it took to win his teacher to their side without a second thought. A few hours later and Harry was in the basement bleeding out on the cement flooring naked with only a tattered rag.

Breathing hard, the bulging vein on Vernon's neck thudded away his elevated heart rate - it took the final thud of a hammer against Harry's fingers before he was finally sated. Meaty palms grabbed at the boy's hair, pulling hard back and forth, before finally he pushed away standing to return upstairs. With a look from the last step, he spat down at the boy with a statement Harry would never forget; "Just like your mother, a pathetic bitch; I'll make sure you know just how much that cock-slave was worth to the world" with that he slammed the door, with a finale click of the deadbolt.

Harry immediately threw up the blood he been swallowing; he was determined never to give the man any satisfaction that his beatings were working. Crawling to the corner, to lean his head in elevation against the wall he softly cried. The tears did little to satiate his emotions, but the salty water as they touched his lips helped relieve some of the metallic taste in his mouth.

Slowly but surely his body stopped shaking and the pressure against his chest washed away as a relaxing, soothing flow of energy travelled up his body. It calmed his emotions, and the tears stopped flowing – the last feeling his remembered before blacking out was the snapping sound of his bones moving back into place.

* * *

 _21st of December, 1982 ~ Wizengamot Chamber, Ministry of Magic, London, UK_

 _ORDER! ORDER IN THE COURT!"_ Dumbledore's voice reverberated across the chamber, enhancing his already commanding tone. The gathered noise slowly died out; Lords and Ladies languid to resume their seats - but did so turning toward the Chief Warlock.

The aged-wizard regarded the source of their sudden uproar with venom; "Lord Nott, it has already been widely recognized in many courts that a victim still holds personal injury claim to negligence or intentional harmful acts on part of the defendant- " One side of the room immediately exploded with outrage, drowning out the sound of his voice.

Again, his voice booming with the Sonorous charm, Albus forced calm upon the commotion – _"SILENCE!"_.

Patiently waiting for the conservative side of the room to resume their seats he continued; "I will remind the chamber that we are not discussing manslaughter, assisted suicide, or homeowner negligence – we are only addressing first/second degree murder proven by The Council of Magical Law", he paused letting the words sink in, and the court erupted in small whispers.

With a sly grin he turned towards the conservative side; eyes sweeping across them individually as he spoke "It is _unfortunate_ , that the Dark Lord, during his rein, was so powerfully able to control twenty-two souls, forcing them to do horrendous acts of violence against others on his behalf - making their _crimes_ mote.."

A few of the progressives chuckled, but Albus ignored it; continuing to stare down each 'ex'-death eater Wizengamot member waiting for them challenge the remark.

Yaxley shifted to stand, but a quick flick of Lucius Malfoy's wand he was held down; the two had a brief silent conversation of eyes. After a moment awaiting silence, Yaxley snapped his head away in defiance, but remained seated. A few members of the Order observed this with prudence; and continued to monitor them even as the floors attention returned to their speaker who acted as though unaware of the exchange.

"..but negligence, however, can be proven by Causation; a defendants action _or in-action_ against a victim." He swiftly continued before the conservative's disapproval could be voiced. "After all the same twenty-two people that were Imperio'd by Voldemort also bore the mark of Voldemort's personal.. Entourage." Yet again, a few chuckles were heard through the silence at the jabbing comment; but with some restraint the conservatives said nothing.

"Because of this, it indicates that these individuals must of been in some.. esteem, or trust, with the Dark Lord and aware of his plans; therefore fall under second degree negligence for each victim murdered by their wand."

He let the statement dangle, leaning on his heels awaiting an opposition to be voiced, after a minute; when it was clear none would come - Albus turned back to Lord Nott.

With a cough the man stood back up; "Are we saying now that any with group tattoo's, or members of clubs are culpable for what that club/group does even without the consent of said individual?" he paused a moment for his view to sink in.

"Let's say, for example, that the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot were to murder someone tomorrow; would that make each member of this esteemed court liable for the Chief's action? Or penalized for their _in-action?_ "

Some murmur flowed through the court at this making Nott, and some of his close-by comrades smile widely at the quip; he sat back down.

"If those members Aided or Abetted in the Crime; then yes - they would be charged under Accomplice Liability" Albus remarked immediately as Nott finished, stunning the man at his miscalculation. "The twenty-two individuals named on this bill thoroughly _Aided and Abetted_ in **all** the crimes committed during the time they were under the Imperius Curse; but cannot, as proven by The Council of Magical Law - be held accountable for _those_ crimes under _S.R 42-322_. What they can be held negligible for is being marked with the 'Death-Eaters' mark, and willingly presenting themselves before Voldemort to be Imperiused."

Walden Macnair immediately stood, smiling menacingly; " _Now_ you are claiming that these people were _willingly_ Imperious by the Dark Lord, and _willingly received the Dark Mark_ when you cannot possibly prove- " he was cut off by the Chief Auror Amelia Bones standing, swiftly pulling out a roll of parchment.

"Excuse my interruption, Chief Warlock - may I.. " Albus nodded quickly, a little too quickly some of the Wizengamot noticed.

Amelia tapped the parchment lightly with her wand; " _Vetranquis Sonorous" -_ instantly a small ball of light floated from the parchment, rotating to the center of the chamber; then without warning the monotone voice of Ignatius Prewett ( _Stenographer of Governmental Session_ s) echo'd throughout the chamber.

" _14th of September, 1982 ~ Docket Case 12-44271; Trial of Augustus William Rookwood, accused of First Degree Murder, convicted of Treason by Testimony from Igor_ _Aleksey Karkaroff. Quoting from_ _Transcript 76:02 Subsection 12.41;.._

 _15:21:49: Bartemius Crouch Snr. - "When did the Branding Ceremony take place?"_

 _15:21:58: Augustus Rookwood -"Two months after- "_

 _15:22:02: B.C. Snr - "A specific date, please, Mr. Rookwood"_

 _15:22:09: A.R. - "I don't know.. 14th of December, 1977.. maybe? I can't remember.."_

 _15:22:22: B.C. Snr - "Very well.. What took place during the Ceremony, how many people were there?"_

 _15:22:34: A.R. - "Fourteen.. fifteen including me, of the inner-circle. We stuck out our arms; and repeated after the Dark Lord some words.."_

 _15:22:51: B.C. Snr - "Were you under the Imperius, or any influencing magical stimulants that persuaded you to be 'branded'?"_

 _15:23:04: A.R. - "No, the Dark Lord was clear that our mind's had to be willing to receive the mark and loyal to only him otherwise we would parish; Marcius Rosier died while receiving his mark. His body withering- "_

 _"Finite"_ Amelia tapped her wand, again, and the ball of light faded from existence - elevating the room's stunned silence. After a moment, the room erupted in barely docile whispers.

Letting the conversation flow, it rose in tempo with time - before Albus finally raised his wand, letting the room take notice and return to silence by it's own pace.

Dumbledore turned towards the Minister nodding his head, "I believe all has been argued; for or against _W.R. 1042_ \- if there is anything more to discuss: speak now, or forever mote shall it be!"

He awaited for someone to object, or further argue another such point - but when none came he smiled.

The Minister stood; "We shall adjourn for the day, tomorrow at 0900 hours, Session will reconvene and vote on _W.R. 1042._ Goodnight to you all!"

* * *

 _24th of September, 1989 ~ Epsom, UK ~ Year Four, Lower School_

Harry rolled the phrase over his tongue elegantly; reverberating the words fluently to the German raised man. His grade three teacher clapped delightedly, face contorted in a silly grin – thinking of more and more phrases for the boy to learn. With a guilty sigh of boredom Harry repeated the man's next sentence verbatim. _How did he end up in these situations?_

The day had started like any other with a few introductory lessons into French; _hello, goodbye, etc._ Then after some time into the lesson, Mr. Thomas handed out a worksheet for the students to start in class; and finish at home.

The classroom quickly became deathly quiet, only the sound of page turning and pencils working to be heard. Mr. Thomas methodically worked his eyes across the room, ensuring each student was working and not taking naps or playing around. Scanning the last of the row, elated most were working diligently, he spotted a patch of jet-black hair staring unfocused out the window into the school yard.

Shaking his head, the mid-aged man stood and walked over to the student – mentally preparing the speech to berate his student back to the work at hand. As he approached the young Potter's desk however, the boy just held out his homework to him without turning his eyes from the yard. Confused, and annoyed he was about to ridicule his student, but then some writing on the sheet of paper caught his eye. _It was finished._

Perplexed, he took the assignment – carefully going over the answers; with a quick scan he could tell they were correct. After a moment's contemplation he walked back to the front tail in tow, mind whirling. _Surely_ the boy must have some French heritage to have learned the language so quickly. It was then he determined, he would speak with the boy after class to see if he already knew the language.

Later that day Harry sighed; as he teacher again asked the same question – he only rolled his eyes as he repeated yet the same answer; "Non monsieur". Mr. Thomas had requested Harry to come by his office after classes convened, knowing that the Dursley's wouldn't notice his absence for another few hours he agreed.

Grinding his teeth, Mr. Thomas switched to german; " _sicherlich hatten sie vorher nachhilfe.." 'surely you had previous tutoring'._

"wieder kein herr" ' _again, no sir';_ Harry snapped harshly – annoyed. _"ich habe das letzte jahr in der bibliothek studiert" 'I studied in the library all last year'._

Mr. Thomas narrowed his eyes; "Well.. what other languages can you speak?"

"None fluently, I'm only passable in French and German" he replied sheepishly, making Mr. Thomas chuckle.

"Reading only get's you so far after all.." he explained quickly, eyes lowering to the book in front of them.

Thoughtful, encouraged by a kinship pride; Mr. Thomas offered to teach the boy an private lesson of expansion on French, and German after classes for an hour everyday. Interested, Harry agreed - _another hour away from the Dursleys would be nice.._

Over time it became their ritual; Mr. Thomas would teach him a phrase or colloquial saying, and Harry would learn it instantly.

Before his second lesson however, learning from the past mistakes – Harry made his teacher promise to keep the private tutoring between the two of them secret, in exchange he would learn any language the man wanted to teach. With slight remorse the man agreed, and so began a long friendly tutoring of a multitude of languages.

They repeated this process every day, and at the end of his third year – the dark haired boy had become fluent in French, German, Romanian, and a little bit of Russian.

Ecstatic over his linguistic development, Mr. Thomas broke his promise and emailed his guardians – telling them of how proud he was of the boy's intelligence, and work ethic.

That week, Harry didn't return to school – the basement had never seen so much blood.

* * *

Read and Review!

~Looking for Help in Editing this Story, already have chapters and ideas for storyline written; just need a good editor to help with writing~


	2. Omnipotence

_I do not own, nor will ever own the Harry Potter Series - or any of its subsidiaries._

 _The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown._

H.P. Lovecraft (1890 - 1937)

* * *

 _~ Chapter II: Omnipotence ~_

* * *

 _1st of November, 1989 ~ Epsom, UK ~ Year Four, Lower School_

Total chaos would be the words to describe lunchtime at ISL Surrey Primary School; the counters overcrowded with students who tend not to form a line of any kind. A headache for the cafeteria workers; who, between the administration begging them to look at healthier options and the children always grabbing for the fattest, saltiest food, became apathetic towards their jobs. So, the lunchroom generally looked (in the best terms) under weather.

This was of little concern to Harry though; without even possessing the lunch money to choose _any_ options, he was left out of the daily madness. Always hanging out in the outer corridors, the jet-black haired boy spent his time reading instead.

Today he was scrutinizing _Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen;_ a widely recommended read from various bookstores, upon grabbing a copy from the library this morning he was looking forward to a quiet lunch reading away. Only a few chapters in, however, he was disappointed in other peoples choice in literature. The characters were just too... opulent for him to relate to in any way. Shutting the book dismayed; he absentmindedly massaged his messy hair.

"..hand over the money, or I'll fuckin' take it" Harry froze, the voice was close, very close. Head snapping towards the corner between two hallways he searched for the source, _someones here?_

It was abnormal given the time. Lunch had just started, and most students tended to pile quickly into the cafeteria to devour their meals; and socialize about the latest _whatever_ leaving the hallways ghostly empty.

"No, I don't believe I will!" a feminine squeak reverberated from the silence around the corner, sounding confident in herself; but Harry could hear the slight strain in her vocals. Getting up from his spot, Harry poked a head around the corner; keeping low to avoid being spotted.

He saw two older boys; Year Fives if he were to guess, towering over a girl his age. They had her corned between a locker, and the wall - hand's crossed over their chest. It was clear they weren't getting physical yet, but with the defying look the bushy haired girl was giving them, their restraint was going to be tested.

"Just give it over!" he commanded, arm reaching out. She gripped the light blue backpack tight against her chest, closing her eyes as she pulled it closer - unrelenting the older boy tugged at it hard. For a minute they played the tug-o-war game, each movement getting more and more frantic with every pull.

Harry, watching from afar, felt something harden in his heart. A creature growling at the sight before him - like a predator yearning to pounce. He swallowed hard, mind reeling at his own emotions.

 _I'm not some damn nitwit, jumping into danger without heed.._

Yet, the longer the two children fought for control, and the bag's straps threaten to break - that creature in his chest snarled louder.

Finally, as if making the decision for him - the miscreant's friend joined the fight and together with their combined strength, ripped the bag from the young girl's arms.

Harry let out a steady relieved sigh, as she fell to the ground none too harshly; and the boys grinned with approval.

Now successful they searched through the bag madly, dumping her books to the floor, they found the girls lunch cash and grabbed it - throwing the now empty bag back at her face.

Head shaking with disapproval at the girl's in-ability to let go; Harry turned to retreat back to the library satisfied the danger was officially over. He was half-way to standing up when suddenly his skin crawled.

"What a fucking freak, this one" one of the boy's sneered out, his voice burlesque. "Manky slag has lost the plot, should teach her a lesson" he smiled, irrationally smug.

His crony joined in; "Right you are Marcus, twit's should know their superiors on sight".

Knowing what was coming, seeing the look in the boy's eyes a hundred times before in Vernon's - Harry's hands shook with anger. He turned towards them, unnoticed by the boys; staring in absent rage, his emotions clouding all thought.

Realizing what was happening, the little girl looked frightened and pulled her legs in to protect herself, curling into a small ball. She whimpered between her arms for remorse, but the boy's cruelty was ruthless and without pause they started kicking her shins.

Harry's mouth snapped shut, grinding his teeth; watching as the two beat into her. His heartbeat pounded in his ear, matching rhythm with their beating like a disgusting song. Slowly, he saw her hands start to bleed as the girl cried out in pain. In the back of his mind, he questioned where the hell the teachers were..

Then the bigger tosser started to reach for the girls hair, and Harry's chest burst with a thunderous growl and he dashed forward.

Suddenly, as though he was watching in slow motion; the two boys flew across the hall by an unseen force - he was already halfway to them: watching as their bodies flew back in surprise. In the tight corridor, it took only a second for the boys to slam against the opposite wall. The young girl, wide-eyed, winced as she saw their backs snap harshly against the concrete.

Harry didn't stop though, instantly he was upon them - grabbing at their collars he pushed them back up into a standing position. Breathing hard, adrenaline rushing; head pounding with anger he growled fiercely.

For the first time since the start of the incident, he saw a different emotion run through their eyes; fear. Anger snarling, he leaned back and slammed them against the wall; grinning as he heard their yelps of pain. Quickly dropping them, they fell down limply like dolls; slowly falling into unconsciousness. Harry's chest heaved up an down, as the adrenaline fired through his veins; hands clenching and un-clenching awaiting the retaliatory attack.

It wasn't until he saw the blood seeping from one of the boys hair, that his mood changed. Regret slowly crawled into his throat, and his eyes flickered away from their bodies to the wall in front of him. Two massive dents caved the concrete in, some of the broken tiling falling to the ground - he almost choked.

Eyes fluttering, he looked to the side; attempting to clear his clouded mind - _the girl.._

He turned to her, ignoring the sound of high-heels clicking slowly down the hallway; he reached a hand out to her. She hesitated for a moment, eyes wild flashing between fear and something he couldn't quite understand. Finally, she accepted it; and he pulled her up - without a moment's hesitation ducking around the corridor corner to his previous hiding place; dragging her with him.

Without stopping, they ran together down the hallway into another corridor; away from everything. They didn't stop until they reached the farthest, emptiest side of the building; stopping to catch their breath. Harry slumped against the wall; running a hand through his hair.. _SHIT, SHIT, SHIT!_

His blood calming from the absence of danger, his mind finally unclouded searching for explanation of the situation. He was so high-strung; as the scene replayed over and over in his head, he didn't notice the girl staring at him.

"How did you do that?" she squeaked out, arms covering over the now empty backpack. Ignoring her Harry's eyes stared at nothing; _what happened? Did they get thrown back by her?_

Eyes roaming over the petite girl, he took in her slender form; travelling up to her rosy red cheeks – face contorted with frustration he dismissed the thought. "I asked you a question!" she snapped at him, again Harry ignored her running through a multitude of scenarios each more desperate than the last.

Eyes searching they landed on the backpack fear spreading quickly; _dammit! Her books, they'll know she was involved.._

Just as he thought this, the Public Address System kicked on; giving that tell-tale click of a microphone – "Hermione Granger, please report to the Headmasters Office - Mrs. Granger to the Headmaster's Office please."

Face flushing of all color, the girl stood frozen for a moment; staring at the end of the corridor. Harry thinking quickly grabbed her hand; turning her towards him. His eyes shining he stared directly into her, snapping her attention from her thoughts.

"Please.. uh.. Hermione.. I.I don't know what happened; but don't tell them I'm involved.. _please_ " he pleaded hoping she'd understand.

The girl didn't say anything, eyes just roving over his face slowly – then finally some red returned to her cheeks and she turned away without a word. Walking down the hall, and turned the corner towards the front office without a word.

Harry collapsed back against the wall, butt harshly falling to the floor – hands absentmindedly running through his slightly damp hair. Shivers traveling down his back, as the adrenaline left his body with each calming breath.

His eyes flickered to the end of the hallway, awaiting a teacher to round the corner yelling at him – he sat staring for what felt like forever.

Suddenly the building rang with the lunch bells; scaring him to his feet – laughing shakily.

Students started to flow around the corner and putting his head down Harry innocently walked towards his next class; mind racing. _Well, I guess my life is in her hands now..._

* * *

 _24th of December, 1982 ~ Headmaster Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands_

A brief smile passed Albus Dumbledore's face as he opened the Daily Prophet from it's creased fold; lightly holding the pages forward he leaned back into his chair.

 ** _W.R. Res. 1042 Passes Wizengamot in Landslide Victory 81-19_**

Ministry of Magic, London - Head of House Marchbank; Griselda Marchbank ( _Progressive - Governor of the Wizarding Examination Authority_ ) voted to pass a bipartisan, bicameral compromise of reparations for prejudiced deaths from former 'death-eaters' over the holidays at the semi-annual Winter Solstice.

When asked about her political victory, Lady Marchbank had this to say;

"The only feasible solution after the failed 'Imperio Trails' was a financial one.

In the Muggle world, after their Second World War; the United States, United Kingdom, and Soviet Union forced West and East Germany to pay war reparations to the Allied Governments.

This was done to financially dismantle the remaining Nazi Party, and was quite successful.

When designing this bill, with the help of The Council of Magical Law, we used that key diagram to structure a reparation system for the victims.

Many would laugh at the idea that our Government would take after Muggle's, but as a Progressive myself; I am not bigoted to believe we have nothing to learn from them.

Reparations will now be provided under _Resolution 1042_ by those responsible for devastating the muggle-born/half-blood communities that have lived in our society for generations.

Just like the Allies did after World War II, we will be using an un-biased third party to dictate substantiated claims, determine wealth vs. party damage, and amount payable per crime.

The Third-Party unanimously chosen by the Wizengamot was the British Goblin Bank _Gringotts_ , not only for their unique possession of all the relevant information pertaining to the aggrieved parties; but also for their unparalleled anti-corruption system.

We believe they will reach un-biased decision on each and every individual parties claim to punitive damages, and wrongful death. In meeting with Ragnok earlier this week, he assured me his Department Heads would dutifully attend to each case individually with professionalism and impartial objective."

Tomorrow we'll have an in-depth interview with the Chief Goblin of Gringrotts, Ragnok Orcslayer on how he will proceed with this unprecedented event. Stay tuned

– _Reeter Skeeter, Daily Prophet Editor._

Albus shut the paper slowly; mind running through the risk analysis of lettering Gringotts about the Potter Account Management to help "expedite" the James/Lily case; but when thinking over his last conversation with the Golbins he shuddered to imagine how they'd react of being repeatedly hounded.

No, now was not the time to grab funds; while the limelight was directly on Gringotts and how it proceeds with the financial aspects of the bill.

What was it that Saint Augustine said? _Patience is the companion of wisdom_.. well, The Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot was a patient man indeed.

* * *

 _3rd of November, 1989 ~ Epsom, UK ~ Year Four, Lower School_

Harry had been quiet for days, silently waiting for the other shoe to drop – for the calm before the storm to be over.

 _There was just no bloody way that she'd kept quiet about it.. no... way..._

It didn't stop Harry's hope though, the rapturous thought of someone being on _his_ side for once.

God, what he'd give for it to be true...

But his mind knew the truth; they were just investigating the crime. Contacting the right legal authorities to ascertain correct punishment; juvie, minor parole boards, hearing after hearing before finally.. he was discarded to the system.

The rumors didn't help with the anxiety of it all, listening to people speculate; spread false truths.

 _"The boys were in hospice..; no they were outside yesterday at the Mall..; I'd heard it was the gangs.."_

His foot was tapping constantly, attempting to shake away the thoughts - distract his brain. The irony that he always one to admonish people for their bad habits; fingernail biting, chin scratching, pencil tapping - currently chastised his foot for acting of its own accord.

 _fuck..._

He'd never been more stressed out in his life. Fighting the urge to ask the night janitor for a light after class; thoughts going to something, anything to release the tension.. to have one moment of bliss ignorance.

Unfortunately, today was Friday, which meant classes dragged on longer than thought possible; minutes feeling like hours - the clock slowing to a crawl. By fourth hour; Harry was ready to stab his leg just to have a distraction for the Daytona 500 rumbling through his thoughts. Just as he ground his teeth for the thousandth time, the bell finally rang; and he darted out the door.

Dashing from corridor to corridor as the halls slowly filled with people all heading in the same direction; lunch - he went the exact opposite. _His_ corridor, the place he always felt safe; alone..

Just as the noise died away; and the hallways grew emptier - he drew closer. Turning the corner looking towards his favorite spot to read; already pulling out the new book he'd gotten from the library, he looked up. Breath catching in his throat, stunned in place.

 _She_ was there.. the bushy-haired girl; the reason for all his stress.

 _She_ stood there; arms crossed over her chest - leg sticking forth like a teacher waiting on a late student. Given the situation, he knew he shouldn't.. his brain reproved the very thought; but he couldn't help as a smile came to his face. _God she's so... cliche._

He shook away the thought, there were more important things to focus on: _why is she here?_

She huffed unladylike breaking away his thoughts, admonishing him with a disapproving glare - "And where have you been, may I ask?"

Now Harry really was stunned; _where have I been? uhh, classes?_

"I.." breath catching in his throat he contemplated why was he explaining himself to _her? She_ was the one that hid from _him_ for the past two days.

Harry would know, he'd searched everywhere for her: the gym, play-yard, cafeteria; constantly looking for the bushy brown hair. To explain, to somehow try to _understand_ what happened.

He even had a speech planned; a perfectly drafted, heavily edited explanation of how it was a combination of luck, and adrenaline that made him some sort of _superhero._ The theory after all wasn't without fault, there were proven events of people gaining super-strength in stressful situations. But his heart didn't believe the lies his brain came up with, something had happened that day.. something that couldn't be explained logically.

Her eyes softened during the time his brain was processing; "I didn't tell them.." she started, glaring into his soul - then after a moment looking towards the end of the hallway.

Harry physically recoiled, _no.. God isn't this cruel; to give me hope when I need it most, the cops have to be just around the corner.._

But yet the more he stood there, the more he didn't believe it - _did they need evidence? Of course! There was no way to prove he'd done it._

"Tell them what?" he almost grinned at the obvious lie, challenging her to be on the reproach.

Eyes quickly snapped towards him glaring madly, and suddenly he felt stupid and naked, exposed to those brown piercing orbs; after a moment she huffed.

"You know what" she snapped, making Harry's own eyebrows furrow, voice catching in his throat.

After a lengthy staring contest, she uncrossed her arms; looking down at her feet.

"Never mind it doesn't matter, I just wanted to tell you that.. I didn't tell them, and.." she bit her lip, eyes a little watery. "Thank you" drawing out the words like a sin from her lips.

Tears started to poke her lashes and Harry couldn't help but cock his head.

"Thank you?" he questioned, feeling his own tears forming.

"You saved me, and..well" she huffed, looking around as though searching for the words, "and.. God, can't you just accept a thank you?"

He smiled; _"Fine.."_ appeasing the girl who looked on the verge of bawling her eyes out.

She analyzed him for a bit, before finally stepping closer - sticking out a hand; "I'm Hermione by the way, Hermione Granger" beaming a broad smile that made Harry's neck tingle.

He hesitated, clenching and unclenching his fist before sticking out his hand, feeling.. nervous - _what the hell is going on?_

"Harry" he reciprocated.

Luckily his voice held even - and more surprisingly his grip was more confident than he felt; holding her.. s _oft.. small.. hand.._

Again, that tingle ran down his neck to his lower back even more fiercely.

Hermione let a playful grin blemish that composed glare - "Have a last name there, Harry?" she taunted, releasing his hand. It was then for the first time, he noticed how close they had gotten in the hallway; _wasn't he at the corner?_ The thought only flickered for a moment though.. distracted by the girls brown piercing eyes.

Harry folded his arms, one of his fingers tapping his chin in fake thought - "I believe so, can't seem to remember it.. Bond? No.. "

She laughed; lightly, but a laugh that made Harry smile back successfully - he looked at her cheeks as they rose. Truly took in her face; her smooth skin, soft complextion, imperfect hairline.. and beautiful brown eye's. Snorting at the cliche for the number of songs written for girls like her.

Now he understood though, why men suddenly became so dumb around the opposite sex; from writers to singers to actors. It was that breathtaking beauty that just took away one's ability to think.

Finally though, after a moment, his common sense returned and his brain questioned the danger; _how was she here?_

"What happened after..." he let the question hang, and she nodded in understanding.

"Mr. Hoffman just kept asking a bunch of questions, trying to figure out who gave em a kip" he noticed her drawl, a little Oxford; not quite enough to be noticeable - just right at the edge of her speech. Hidden in the highlander's way of talk, more of an elongated letter than a denunciation for accented marking.

His front teeth bit down on his bottom lip to suppress a laugh; "mm.. what did you tell them?"

"Said I did it!" she stood straight, arms poised in a Superman-esc pose; before laughing and sighing frustratingly. "But, apparently nobody believes a _girl_ could take on two bellends."

He looked sideways; seeing the logic.. but said nothing at her menacing glare - "Well I told them off right quick. And, get this, the Headmaster claims they must have fought each other; gotten mad at who gets the money!"

He eye-rolled as she continued; "Man's a duffer I sware, if it wasn't for his mate being the Superintendent, that man would have been sacked ages ago."

They chuckled together, it was a common joke amongst the students that their lanky dark-haired Headmaster was a piss-poor excuse for an administrative body.

"Anyways, I've got to get going - I'm starving" she shifted around him, heading towards the next hall. For a moment, Harry felt a tad disappointment at their abrupt disengagement - he looked back down at his book contemplating what to do next. Feeling relief that life was returning to normal.. but was he really relieved? Was normalcy what he wanted? I mean, after all, this was the most enjoyable conversation he had in.. years.

"Aren't you coming?" Her voice echoed around his ears - and for a moment he didn't understand who she was talking to. Dumbly, he looked around for another person - confused as to how they could have approached so quietly. Then when he realized it was just them in the hallway, he turned fully toward her.

"Me?" he questioned, finger pointing towards his chest.

She huffed, "Well of _course_ , silly - I wanna hear all about the tales of Harry Bond; the chivalrous knight/spy".

He smiled and walked towards her - turning the corner together.

* * *

 _Read and review, please!_


	3. Omitted

_I do not own, nor will ever own the Harry Potter Series - or any of its subsidiaries._

 _Change your thoughts and you change your world._

Norman Vincent Peale (1898 – 1993)

* * *

 _~ Chapter III: Omitted ~_

* * *

 _25th of January, 1983 ~ Main Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands_

Breakfast was rather bleak today, the weather had yet to let up its fierce cold blizzard and the low temperatures was starting to affect the student's morale. Albus always kept the magically conditioned halls and classes at a heated 22 Celsius, but this did little help with the open courtyards and open-air hallways you had to navigate between certain buildings. Students were bundled up with four layers of clothing, and becoming warming charm masters - not without a few 'accidental' burned body parts, however.

They even had to move the Herbology classes into the dungeons until the storm passed upon students complaints of the long trek down to the Greenhouses. Putting an even greater strain on Professor Snapes already limited restraint. Gryffindor was clearly not going to win the House Cup this year.

However, the weather was not what had a damper on Albus's current mood. With the War over, and plenty of time on his hands - Albus had started searching for the last Deathly Hallow again; in hopes of accomplishing his childhood dream: becoming the master of death. Already having the Elder Wand in hand, and James Potter's Invisibility Cloak in his possession he was very close to achieving that goal - now all that remained was the Ressurection Stone.

But his search was, as it had been for the past ninety years, for naught.

All information of the Resurrection Stone had been lost, presumably forever, after the last Peverall's death - Ignotus.

He had hoped that tracing through the Potter family line, he could find a link for where they had received the Invisibility Cloak from Ignotus; but alas he could not find any existing records in the Ministry nor Hogwarts.

His current trek down this well-worn path was sparked by a rumor that had come up at the Winter Solstice. Dark Magic was heard of being used in Bulgaria, and when he had questioned the whispering conversationalists; they said it was of the ghostly variety. Apparently a creature had been seen in the vast Forests of Vendorcher; shaped in dark hooded clothing followed closely behind by what seemed to be ghostly translucent figures of various types. Albus immediately recognized what could possibly be the Resurrection Stone, bringing people back in semi-transparent forms.

Quickly, after Session had ended - Albus took to Bulgaria; desperate in search. But after spending a week apparating around the towns surrounding the Forests of Vendorcher, and speaking to the magical people who lived there: he found nothing. Giving up on the vacant rumor, he returned to the school before the students came back from Winter holiday - depressed. But, the thought of finding the absent Hallow never left his mind - and when classes started back up, he dived into his old research fervently. Yet again looking back into Potter history, which he knew to be a lost cause.

Albus had determined years ago, (disappointingly), that the only way to track down the Potter history, was to go to the source itself - Potter Mansion. Which, without a direct descendent opening his Will and reading the Fidelias Charm around the mansion; he had no way of knowing where the Mansion was or ever tracking it. And unfortunately for Albus, in order for Harry Potter, (the last descendant of the Potter line), to read his will - the Goblins would have to allow an underage Wizard to receive his full inheritance. Something, they would never.. _ever_.. in a million years do.

See from what Dumbledore understood; Goblins liked to keep their hands on large sums of galleons, like the Potter inheritance, in their Valuts safe and secure before some (in their eyes) vacuous Wizard was to spend it all away. They weren't exactly wrong in that aspect; most Wizards weren't very good with finances - and precariously wasted away their dowry's and savings in Estates, rare items, etc.

The reason so many Noble and Most Ancient House names had died out in the Wizarding world, was not only due to lack of reproduction - but also their disregard for basic finances. The families would become, after a few generations; in dire need of money and would basically sell their next of kin to another Noble House to survive therefore changing the House name.

So Albus was stuck hoping, beyond all hope that one of these days the Goblins would allow the Potter Vault to be opened up for Harry's magical guardian to take over the account - upon which he would seize his chance.

But, that was years away when the baby had reached, at the very least, age eleven...

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~_ _Number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey, UK_

Hugs and kisses were spread around, John Dursley and his wife Elizabeth had just arrived for the Dursley semi-annual family dinner. A tradition since the older Dursley brothers had children and became too busy with their lives to stay in constant touch. If the brothers were to be completely honest, they could go years without seeing each other just fine - but their wives had been persistent that this was an expected event between families; so they relented to spent a few hours at each others houses each year.

Harry couldn't help but see the 'lovely reunion' for what it was, a pathetic battle between "The Joneses". For example, not even five minutes in the house Vernon is bragging about the new radio set he just bought a few days before. Going on and on about the Stereo quality; how he can fit it with the 8-track set and blare his favorite David Bowie songs at a resounding 144hz.

Now, John is impressed (not really) and telling him all about the new Kitchen renovation he and his wife just finished the week before; "pristine granite counter-tops with stainless finishing!" he keeps exclaiming loudly for all to hear. And states quite proudly that they will need to host the next get-together to show off the spacious stove; and top of the line cabinetry.

Rolling his eyes, Harry; after a quick introduction to appease the Dursley's he was in-fact still alive - disappeared into the backyard. They were not expecting him for dinner, as this was a 'Dursley only event'; nor did he want to be there.

So, with a quick hop over the frosted fence, he crossed over into the alley between the Little Surrey houses. Darting from street to street until he was trekking into the woods surrounding Surrey, bundling up his arms in his sweatshirt that did little against the cold wind he found the path toward the three-story mansion that was his destination.

Harry had been surprised when Hermione, who wore normal clothing, and jewelry - had directed them to the wealthiest mansion in all of Surrey; and presented it as her home the first time they 'hung out'.

She explained rather sheepishly; "my parent's are dentists, the only dentists for all of Surrey - which means their office is swamped constantly and all the insurance companies for the area-.." Harry was only half-listening; instead inspecting the massive house they were approaching on his first visit. Harry didn't even know there were mansions in Surrey.

The Dursley's, of course, never let him venture too far from their small townhouse on Privet Dr - in result, he knew very little about the outside world. It actually saddened him how the only way for him to explore the world was through books. In fact, the more he learned about what a normal life was like through Hermione, the more he wanted to leave Surrey all behind.

Speculation on the outside world, however, was not what occupied Harry's mind these days. No, it was the girl that he was making way toward right now.

It was baffling how fast Hermonie and Harry had become friends, from their first encounter till now; a month later, they had been inseparable ever since. They just had so much in common, it was impossible not to hold a conversation easily; from the books they read, to the subjects they studied - even their trepidation toward normality were the same. Preferring to spend time indoors learning, reading, and discovering between books and scientific study rather than wasting away their free time putting sticks in the mud like their peers.

It was hard not to like his newfound friend, especially when she challenged his intelligence in ways nobody else could.

Like the, for example, the first night they hung out outside of classes when she had stunned him so profounded he was left with an entirely different perspective on science itself.

"Look.. all I'm saying is if Stern had used inhomogeneous magnetic field oriented in the same direction, then all of the atoms would deflect to same way in the second field. Therefore, Stern-Gerlach's experiment would show that the natural world is quantized and able to take only certain discrete values" she volleyed his statement without a moments thought.

"Only, if you take the fact that his detector screen is also quantized" she paused, smiling when Harry swore under his breath at his own stupidity. "Yes, if you want to say that everything is relative to _itself_ \- then the measurement _itself_ changes the system being measured in quantum mechanics."

Harry sat stunned, thinking over and over on how blatantly obvious the answer was; this, after all, was the reason new studies were double-blind peer-reviewed before even submitted for testing. Like, here we are almost seventy years later, still discovering different answers to an experiment thought to have changed the world.

"So, that means the Bohr's model is _still_ left unanswered..." he sighed in asperation. She sympathized with his disheartenment; "See, this is why Heisenberg made the uncertainty principle for this exact reason: 'It is not possible to know the values of all of the properties of the system at the same time; those properties that are not known with precision must be described by probabilities.'" She quoted from memory, which impressed Harry.

He sighed; "Yeah if it was so simple to conjecture someone would have already done it already."

She grabbed his hand, drawing his attention immediately; Harry's heart jumping out of his chest - "I seriously find fault in that logic, anyone can discover something new - you just have the guts to do it."

They sat there, in her spacious warm bedroom - holding hands for far longer than they should have before finally she sat back and let him breathe. Never had he felt so accepted, and at the same time challenged - he would always remember that day.

Current Harry felt his face burn at the memory, and almost tripped walking down the snow-covered path toward her house. Finally, after a few minutes, he came to the massive steel gate, pushing a button on the left side it buzzed - echoing somewhere in the house. After a pause, the gate swung open, and he stepped through - making way to the front door as it opened to the sight of a bushy brown haired girl.

He smiled, and just as he started to walk around the main entranceway fountain he felt an odd sensation. It wasn't new, he had been feeling it a lot as of late - but right now it was sending a harsh cold shiver down his back.

They were being watched.

Harry knew it as good as day, he didn't from where or how - but right now he knew for certain someone was nearby watching them.

Taking an inconspicuous glance around, as he walked, Harry didn't spot anyone in the treeline or behind the gate. Searching the roof of the house, there he saw something that was strange. It was clouded day in Surrey, and the snow was starting to fall which blanketed the open air. Yet, on the roof of Hermione's mansion - there was a spot where the clouds shimmered and snowflakes disappeared as they passed through. Before he had to chance to investigate it further, Hermione drew his attention.

"Well, this is a surprise, bored at home Harry?" she jested but smiled brightly at him.

Harry grinned, "Just thinking about how covalent this bond of ours is becoming, I might have to run a Heisenberg test on it" He smirked, (only Hermione could understand his nerdy jokes).

She blushed and stepped inside for him to follow - "Careful, too much heat reaction it just might break."

Harry laughed and looked back towards the roof before stepping inside - the strange spot had disappeared; shrugging he followed Hermione inside closing the door.

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~ 14 West Wentworth Lane, Malfoy Mansion, South Yorkshire, UK_

Yaxley spits the blood from his mouth, taking a long shaky breath before picking himself up from off the floor. Lucius was impressed, not many could get up so easily after taking a Cruciatus of his caliber.

"Now, you wanna fuck around some more, or tell me what you learned from your pointless adventure" Malfoy turned to take a sip of his brandy, which suddenly had lost its taste.

Yaxley, using the marble white pillar to support himself glared at his attacker; "how did you know?"

The oldest Malfoy tsked; "You always underestimate people Yaxley.. and are wasting my time..." He hit the man with a stronger Cruciatus, sending him sprawling to the floor - before long he was screaming. _They always break, sooner or later._

Lucius let go of the curse and sat in the chair awaiting the man's recovery.

Yaxley didn't even bother to get up, just spoke with his face on the ground - "He is secure, at the Muggle's house- _*cough*_ , some kind of blood ward; I cannot break it" Lucius sighed, this was nothing new. _What a waste._

"But-" he swallowed the rest of the blood in his mouth, his throat rough. "He visits a Mudbloods home often; there he is vulnerable - they have no wards not even of the most basic - and the house is hidden in the woods."

For the first time, in quite a while - Malfoy was surprised; shocked even. "Does he visit with an Auror or one of the Order?"

The man on the floor sat up, slowly - and smiled widely with red-stained teeth; "No, nobody watches him."

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~_ _Headmasters Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands_

 ** _JAMES POTTER is off to Hogwarts._**

 _The Daily Prophet, Sept. 1st, 1971_

 _They are amongst the most esteemed pure-blood families in the world. With influence all over the Wizarding Society, the larget non-Goblin shareholders in Gringotts Bank, and the owners of the British and Irish Quidditch League team, the Montrose Magpies, and two stadiums, one can see why the Potters are wizarding royalty._

 _And that's only scratching the surface. No less than five Potters currently serve on the Wizengamot and three top Ministry Departments, (Magical Law and Enforcement, The Department of Magical Game and Sports, and Magical Trade) are practically run by the extended family. The Potters have also been responsible for the introduction of landmark legislation protecting the rights of Muggle-borns and several magical creatures in the last decade alone. In the last century, three Ministers for Magic have had direct ties to the Potters._

 _With ancestry dating back to the Peverells, the Potters are one of the oldest and most respected names in Wizarding Britain. Feared by their opponents, revered by their friends, and famed for the parties and functions they host, the Potters bring an entirely new meaning to the phrase 'Very Important Wizard.'_

 _And now attention turns to their youngest - only child and heir - James. Today he boards the Hogwarts Express to Scotland. With every single Potter name on record a member of Gryffindor, it isn't hard to guess where he'll be living for the next seven years. Of course, James has to live up to his family's challenging reputation. In the last two generations of former Hogwarts students, three Head Boys, two Head Girls, and no less than eleven prefects are connected to the Potter name._

 _Of course, one would be lucky to be James Potter. Despite the expectations of greatness heaped upon him, doors will open for the youngest Potter into the Ministry, Gringotts, and the international Quidditch scene, doors usually closed to most but the very best._

 _Only time will tell, but surely, James Potter is taking his first steps on the path to immortality._

Albus had read it countless times, of course, as part of his research - but the last line always stuck with him. _Immortal.. in memory._

It reminded him that, no matter who you were - Tom had the power to destroy everything you hold dear. Prominence was dangerous - fame, notability, was dangerous.

Twenty-two Potters were alive and well in 1971, successful - happy. Yet only a decade later; there would be only one.

Why that statistic always stuck with Albus he never knew, but the Potter's were always on his mind. A nagging thought, an errant fly that wouldn't leave; why was Tom so obsessed with the Potter's that he commanded all his resources solely on their destruction? There were more profitable targets, more advantageous families to strike against; Greengrass for example, the Montagues, the Bones, the Weasleys; all families that directly opposed him but the Potters? Albus could never understand the infatuation.

Sure they were a Light family, powerful, well-connected, adored by the public, and wealthy - but why just them? If there was one goal Tom had above all else, it was the eradication of the Potters.

The Prophecy was not heard until nine years after Tom had started his massacre of the Potter family; and from what extensive research he'd done about Tom's dwellings into Dark Arts he didn't know about nor strived to find the Deathly Hallows, so why the obsession?

What would make a Dark Lord spend ten years going after one Ancient House with everything he had?

He stared at nothing in contemplation, his office a soft lull of silence - the only noise of his fireplace slowly crackling away at the forever-burn wood.

Suddenly there a loud pop; and Albus's wand snapped up in defense - before him a House Elf appeared and he lowered his hand with a loud sigh of relief.

The tiny creature with bat-like ears stares eyes bulging at him; "Forgive me, I'm much tired.. what is it?"

He assumes there is a problem in the castle, but then the creature continues to stare and he notices for the first time the outfit of the House Elf; torn dirty rags.. this is not a Hogwarts elf. As quick as his wand is gone, it returns - this time silently hidden under his desk.

"Lord Dumbledore! Such an honor it is!" it squeaks out, arms shaky at its boney sides.

"Who do you attend to?" he snaps, rather harshly - given the predicament.

"I'm sorry - Sir, it is difficult, sir.. I cannot say.. " the house-elf wonders where to begin, but then realizes there's only one thing needed to be said.

"Harry Potter has been kidnapped."

* * *

 _22nd of December, 1989 ~ Number 6 Privet Dr, Surrey, UK_

Mundungus Fletcher was having a bad day, a bad week really - but today especially sucked.

First, on Monday, he had to sell the last of his dark artifacts at a significant discount due to Auror crackdowns on illegal artifacts. _Damn Light agenda_ , always looking to use innocent misunderstood items for probable cause of arrest. Or at least, that's how Mundungus explained his ScoloOrbs, and Detromonitors to Marty O'Shea at Borgin Burkes - knowing full well each were as dangerous as a live muggle bomb. The man didn't even blink when Mundungus told him about them, Marty wasn't dumb - but the price was right so he let Mundungus lie away.

Then Tuesday, things were starting to look up - he got a free batch of 'Methyl enedioxy methamphetamine' or what the muggles called MDMA from an up and coming muggle-born dealer looking to make a name in the business. Mundungus was impressed, the stuff did great work on decreasing resistance inhibitors for Muggles, but more importantly had an entirely different effect on Wizards: helping to increase higher-brain function, and reduce Magical Exhaustion weariness.

Truth be told, Mundungus didn't fully understand how the stuff worked - all he knew was its turnover rate was high, and the profit margin was around ninety percent - a great chunk of change in Fletcher's book. Taking the stuff back home, he organized it into smaller concealable moleskin bags that were blood-charmed to each customer with a drop of blood. This helped keep Aurors from ever stop-searching him, and discovering his top of the line product.

Wednesday, was when everything really went to shit - he'd sold a good chunk of his fresh batch by mid-morning; and decided to risk taking a trip to Sugarplum's for some sweet snacks. Right when he entered the store, he was hit in the face with a stunner; of all the bad luck.. Albus Wolfric Brian Dumbledore had been visiting for his refill of Lemon Drops; and upon seeing the sole heir of Minor House Fletcher (who had been avoiding all their Order meetings of late) decided enough was enough. Upon being woken up in Hogwarts dungeons with a cataleptic Snape nearby, he was told very simply - either watch over the Potter boy during the Winter Holiday or go to Azkaban for the drugs in his possession.

So here Mundungus was two days later, sitting in the cramped smelly house of one Mrs. Figg; the Squib who was the permanent watch over Harry. She was on holiday for the Winter break; in the Cayman Islands - so it left poor ol' Fletcher with babysitting duty. Really, he didn't even know why the brat needed watching - he barely ever left the house, and the tracking charm he had on the minx told him the only other place he went was some Mudblood's house. Ah well, Mrs. Figg had a cabinet full of fresh tea; and the kettle was always hot so he wasted away the hours napping and practicing wandless spells. Never was successful, but tried anyway - hoping one day to be able to wandless banish items away with the flick of his wrist; a neat trick for the Aurors.

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~ 12th Brickworth Lane, Granger Manor, Surrey, UK_

Currently, Fletcher was laying on a thick branch - high in the trees that surrounded the Mudbloods house constantly casting warming charms against his pants in hopes his jewels didn't freeze over. Cursing away the Potter name.

 _Goddamn, ingrate - oh yeah mid-winter lets take a leisurely stroll out into the forest for some tea, what fun!_

He contemplated sending a compulsion charm against the house, making everyone in it want to return home but decided against it - for all he knew; Potter might consider this place his home.

Yeah, not even around the kid for forty-eight hours; he could tell the brat hated Number 4 Privet Drive. _Why?_ He didn't really know, but the number of times the kid escaped the place to come over to the bushy-haired little girl's house was enough to give suspicion.

Mundungus sighed; not his monkey, not his circus - he had his own problems to deal with before sticking his nose into the boy-who-lived's... _whatever._ He was about to close his eyes, setting his wand to alarm in half an hour when suddenly he heard the tell-tale crack of an apparition. Fletcher sat up, confused - most of the Order was on Holiday, or at Hogwarts trapped in the annual winter storm. Why would someone be out here?

He jumped to the ground, disillusioning his presence just in case - he'd had enough run-in with Hitwizards and Aurors to be cautious before optimistic. He walked into the middle of the driveway, awaiting someone to come out... a couple of minutes passed with nothing happening.

About to chalk it up to his imagination, he felt the pull of a _Homenum Revelio_ charm; quickly he forced a shield in front of him - and repeated the same spell.

His wand turned, to face behind him - in confusion he looked down at it and in that a brief moment felt panic seize his throat. _Fuck.._

The green blaze of light hit Mundungus's back before he could even move - the former living body appearing from its disillusionment before falling to the ground in a gruesome thud.

"You said he didn't have any guards" Lucius growled at his partner, continuing his fluid wand movement without falter; he transfigured the body into a rock - floating it towards a group of stones by the gate. Giving it enough power to last a couple of days, he moved forward towards the house - determined to finish what they'd come for.

"I hadn't seen any for days!" he snapped back, "bad fucking luck is all that is."

"Or, Dumbledore has learned about your visits" he quipped feriously, but shifted away - "we need to move fast before _they_ turn up; we'll be safe at my Mansion - the wards are strong, just get the kid there" with a smile he added; "and our Lord will be back by nightfall."

Yaxley nodded, and together they strived towards the house. The thick wooden doors that would guard against even the most formidable of Muggles was little match for their wands, with a quick flick it slammed open.

A startled scream could be heard from the living room; Malfoy walked towards it entering into the warmth bathed hall glancing around. For a moment he was impressed at the furniture displayed; as a healthy consumer of exorbitant paraphernalia himself, he knew the price tags were quite high of such first-rate items.

"Who are you?" a voice commanded from a few feet away, and Lucius chastised himself for his falter.

With a flick, green light bathed over the man and he fell immediately, glasses rolling against the dark oak wood floor. There was no blood, no sign of a struggling breath or a painful frown - he was just gone. The woman at his side was silent in confusion, slowly falling to aid her husband who appeared 'unconscious'; Malfoy tsked a sad pity at her muggle stupidity. Without another glance, he bathed her in the same green light, then made for the rounding stairs which led to the upper floors - Yaxley was already there, he could hear the screams of a young girl - and the yelling of a just as young boy above.

Then, they were quiet - and he watched as Yaxley appeared at the top of the stairs; two bodies floating after him.

Lucius glared in surprise; "Alive - just stunned. Fucker wouldn't shut up.." Yaxley answered noticing the look.

Lucius sighed with relief. There were rituals they could do with the boy, dark magic that they would attempt to help their Lord - anything in vain of pleasing the Dark Master they so missed; but they needed the boy alive to be performed. With an afterthought, he glanced at the girl with yet another questioning look. Yaxley grinned devilishly; "my dessert." Lucius didn't respond; they exited the house briskly and made towards an open space to apparate away; a child each - the Lord of the Ancient and Noble House of Malfoy smiled widely.

Today was a good day for Lucius Malfoy, today he would see his Lord again.

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~ Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England, UK_

They turned right, into the wide driveway that led off the lane - two bodies floating closely behind. The high hedges obscuring them from the manor windows view; not that anyone would be watching.

The door seemed to grow out of the darkness as the lights glinted against the downstairs windows; a side entrance that leads straight to the cellar.

Yaxley enters first, with the girl close behind - his wand outstretch to direct her down; each step her arms bouncing against the dry-walls. Lucius doesn't comment, but is more careful with the boy - he is precious for now, but later he'll do terrible unspeakable things with the body.

The cellar has many caverns; each deep within the under bowels of the Manor, inescapable by Apparition or Portkey. Only the Lord of the Manor could leave the house by any means but walking out the door. Lucius is a master at Warding Charms, and Dark Ward Magic; they would be safe here.. for a least long enough for the ritual.

With a quick flick, he takes the boy into a larger room - from wall to wall is various instruments humming away a soft lull; and he floats the boy into the middle of the room where a stretcher magically inclined is hovering at waist level. With a flick, Potter is strapped against it - thick leather cuffs strapping onto his wrists.

Lucius turns away, making quick evaluation of an open book - flipped to the page he's regarding intently: "Dobby!" he commands without looking away.

A soft crack has the house-elf at his side; "Yes Master?"

"Bring me Adrophidation from the cupboards upstairs; the runic blade from my office behind the desk, and my son - I will need his assistance" he commands, flipping another page - as he strips away his long coat, throwing it at the house-elf without looking.

Dobby nods, folding the cloak - eyes drift towards the shifting body of a young boy on the stretcher. Suddenly in recognition of the young one, he almost gasps aloud - but with one look at his still busy Master, he apparates away without comment.

 _Harry Potter is in the house!_ He moves swiftly, grabbing the Adrophidation in a second; apparating away.

 _Harry Potter is trapped in the cellar!_ Dobby appears in the Head of House Office, and for a moment he contemplates something of which he will have to punish himself thoroughly for later - he grabs a regular old knife, and with the snap of his finger it's transfigured with fake runic markings. Pleased with his work, he cracks away to his last task.

 _Harry Potter is too young for this!_ "Young Sir, your father needs assistance in the Cellars!" he calls out knocking against the youngest Malfoys door. Upon the door opening, he disappears with another crack back to his Master. Putting the items next to the still reading man he apparates away, to his lowly cupboard with a small needle stack bed.

 _Harry Potter.. needs help!_ Resolute in his decision, already thinking of which pan to smack against his head until he's bleeding profusely later; he apparates to Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry - to the headmaster's office.

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~ Auror Command,_ _Ministry of Magic, London, UK_

Amelia was rather bored lately, they just wasn't as much illegal activity since Voldemorts demise. She claimed in budget meetings that it was their newly implemented warding system, and re-trained hit squads that had the crime rate at an all-time low.

But Amelia's instincts said differently; that the Dark was hiding - waiting for their Lord's return. Or at least that's what the whispers her Auror's heard from their informants.

She sighed at her rapidly depressing mood, _I need a drink._ She was set to have a catch-up at the Leak with Twycross later - but that wasn't for a couple more hours.

A sly thought strayed towards the bottle of 1402 Cavate Firewhiskey in her cabinet drawer, but she dismissed it away with a disapproving frown. She was on-duty for Merlin's sake; _constant vigilance_ as her ex-partner used to say.

She stretched back, relieving some of the tension in her shoulders - and went to grab her quill to finish off the paperwork she had been delaying.

As she went to strike against the stack, her door slammed open - startling the older woman.

"Boss, Dumbledore's incoming - says it's important!" her assistant, Mafalda Hopkirk stated rather out of breath.

The Head of House Bones went wide-eyed; with a quick flick she conjures her Patronus, a beautiful Chestnut Mare: "Go to Dawlish, tell him to get his ass in my office, now!"

It nods back and takes from the room; a moment later - she can hear the pounding of footsteps outside her door; voices growing louder.

"-he can't be, we would of seen-" she recognizes the voice of her former charms teacher Professor Flitwick.

"-it's impossible-" a more feminine voice follows, and she knows instantly it's her friend Professor McGonagall.

"-of course not! Don't be foolish, he did the same thing to the Cadells in '74-" she can hear the monotone voice of Professor Snape.

One by one, the head Hogwarts Administration walks in her office, led by their clearly irate Headmaster.

"Amelia" he marches towards her, wand in hand - which sets her nerves on end. "Harry Potter has been kidnapped."

* * *

 _24th of December, 1989 ~ Privet Dr, Surrey, UK_

It was bitterly cold.

I wrap my cloak tighter around me as I follow Albus up the street path. Dawlish is moaning behind me, about 'fucking frostbite' and glancing around the recently occupied street.

Minerva walks out Number 6 Privet Dr, closing the door behind her: "He's not here Albus".

The Headmaster looks towards me; "I had a man guarding Harry, he's supposed to be here.." his voice trails off; he looks more unsure and lost than I've ever seen him.

I motion my Tracker forward; "Search the street - it's going to be the only magical signature; young male."

"Yes Commander".

Orion tugs his Crup by the end of its leash, giving it a few signals and it barks back; starting to sniff away at the sidewalk trying to pick up Harry's sent. Crups are great at tracking, and can pick up a magical scent from anywhere - so we all stare at the Jack Russell terrier; waiting.

Finally the fork-tailed dog barks; and takes off towards the house a few doors down. I point my gloved-finger at the doors of Number 4 Privet Dr, and two Aurors appear at the door; with a flash, and loud bang their inside and I can hear muffled screams.

Another minute passes, and the muggle families are dragged out the door one-by-one; the last is one of the largest men I've ever seen. The man's yelling at my Aurors, "Get yer filthy hand off me ya fre- "

As he turns around and faces towards my Squadron his voice falls flat; Albus quickly steps forward - his anger clear as day.

"Petunia, good to see you - I'm sorry about all this but I must ask you a few questions", she nods and doesn't speak. Clearly aware of the seriousness in his tone, but as he goes to continue - the tallest muggle voices his opinion.

"Oh jolly good Vernon! Played a prank on us have you! Well done, are these wish givers? Carol Singers? Ah, those outfits are magini- " with a flick of Dawlish's wand the man is mute.

His complexion changes, and the family next to him gasps; I take the moment to dive into theirs minds. On Muggles Legillimency is legal, and under normal circumstances, I wouldn't dare, but with kidnappings every minute is precious and I know the stakes of losing Harry Potter.

When I return from their memories I point towards the three muggles at the end: "X, V wipe them - their not involved" I command, and my men move fast. With a movement of their wands the three collapse; at the sight of this the large man dives at X who don't even flinch.

"YOU FREAKS KILLED THEM- !" he's frozen in place, eyes bulging as Darius petrifies him; then puts him to sleep.

Albus regards the muggle woman again; "Petunia, where is the boy?"

The woman shakes her head, body shivering - clearly not from the cold: "I-I don't know, he takes off sometimes.."

I dive into her mind, efficiently brushing through the last few hours; an image passes of Harry leaving out the back kitchen door.

Returning to reality, I wave my wand putting the last two muggles to sleep; "X, V wipe their minds; Dawlish, Alastar take to the air - we're moving to the back alley. Orion, scout ahead - should pick up a trail by the back door."

They all nod and move fast, the situation is clear - we need to pick up Harry's trail before it goes cold.

 _Merlin keep that boy safe.._

* * *

Fifteen minutes later we're walking up a dirt road to a Muggle Manor, tall wide gates are wide open and it sets a chill up my spine. Up ahead at the house, the door is lying on the ground with a cold wind blowing in; the lights are on in most the windows.

I flick a signal to Dawlish; he takes to the roof - doing a skydive maneuver landing against it. Alastar searches the windows for counter-attacks; and clears an all good signal before taking to the ground.

The rest of us walk-in phalanx formation in through the gates; but Minerva stops - "Albus.."

She points towards a set of rocks; and flows her wand - " _Reparifarge Maxima"_

One of the stones turns shape into a mid-aged man; reflexes have me throwing out a stunner, followed inflow by an " _Expelliarmus!"_

The man's wand is thrown into the air, and I grab it while Severus walks towards the frozen-still body.

"Mundungus" he states simply, while reaching towards the neck - after a moment he shakes his head.

I flash Albus a furious glare, "Mundungus _Fletcher?"_ I'm reminded of all the times that man has been in holding cells for one thing or another; always let off on some half-cocked excuse from Albus, or Kingsley.

"He was my man on guard" he responds with a pained expression before looking towards the house and I'm reminded of the task at hand. _Leave the dead to rest._

"Minerva, if could stay behind.." he says, walking away. She nods, and transfigures the mound of dirt around the body into a casket of sorts before putting a _Fianto Duri_ ward around herself and the body.

I'm impressed, and turn away to follow Albus; the group closing in with me.

* * *

We stand in the living room, surveying an awful bloodless scene.

Albus is working his wand around the bodies; ghostly runes appearing in the air and I don't even bother trying to understand them.

One of my younger recruits, a half-blood by the name of Marcus, walks up to me; "Commander... I'm sorry; can I ask - why are we here?"

I raise an eyebrow; and he explains in a whisper: "The Headmaster said a house-elf tipped him off, why don't we just go after it's Owner..?"

Dawlish shakes his head next to me, and for a moment I feel pity for the boy - "Elven Magic doesn't allow an House-Elf to betray it's Lord."

He looks confused at this but nods slowly and I roll my eyes; "It can tell us everything but who/where his Lord is or what he's doing - it's tricky magic, but even telling us about Potters kidnap had it almost killing itself."

The boy seems horrified by this; "Then why tell us at all?"

I stare at him a moment dumbfounded, "Because it's Harry Potter."

He seems even more confused by this; and Dawlish must see it because he steps forward grabbing him around the shoulders - "How about you and your partner search the grounds, make sure we're not missing anything."

Shaking my head, I look back towards Albus who's finished with his runes.

"Nothing" he turns to take in the room, his eyes a thousand miles away thinking; and I sigh - I had hoped with Albus would pull an out-of-the-sky Tracking Charm that's been lost for centuries but alas was not to be.

Instead, I'm left with the basics; Profiling, Scene Analysis, and lastly some guesswork.

I had hoped there would be some sort of evidence at the victim's _Last Location_ ; some sort of marks, footprints in the snow, maybe even a dark-mark in the sky.. anything to give an idea of who we're dealing with.

But there's nothing, not a single trace of who was here.. just a fast efficient methodical kidnapping.

That in itself tells me a lot, but not enough to start pointing fingers: the kidnappers are experienced, and well-trained.

Given the Victim, it has to be a loyal Voldemort follower, and if I'm being prejudiced: I know about twelve people that fit the bill.

But, if I started arresting some of the most politically powerful members of the Wizengamot, and the British Ministry - I'd be out of a job before their arraignments.

So, we have to narrow down the list: can't be Greyback, there's no claw marks anywhere... he was never known to be careful.

The Carrows are out too, they would have tortured the muggles; but they were killed by the Avada which as sick as that is, clears them.

Gibbon and Nott are out; I remember seeing a story in the Paper about them hosting a Christmas Eve event or something other. I'll have an Auror double-check, but my gut says it's not them.

Jugson and Mulciber was with the Minister for a press conference earlier in the day; I can't see them taking off to kidnap Harry Potter right after that.

Igor Karkaroff is at Dumbstrange these days, there's no way he could have gotten an International Portkey without someone mentioning it to my office.

Selwyn was in my holding cell this morning, Muggle Baiting on Carnaby Street; the dumbass..

So that leaves; Rookwood, MacNair, Yaxley, and Malfoy... I can live with that list.

Waving my team over, they gather around and I spread around my theory - and a most of them nod. Albus looks cataplectic but says nothing; he knows I'm right.

"Alastar take Darius, Marcus, O'Shea, and Conner - Rookwoods Residence. He hosts a couple parties throughout the year, no Fidelius - Conner's been there before on a check-up have him apparate you" he nods, and they walk outside.

"Dawlish take Orion, James, Bradbery, and Duff - MacNair Residence. He has a Fidelius, but it was Ministry set-up; grab a Warrant from Lord Tresilian to subpoena it." Dawlish nods and flicks his hand towards the back door and I'm left with seven people; myself included.

Albus, Flitwick, Severus, X, V and Callum.. "Too small group to split up, we'll have to move fast - we'll go to Malfoys first; his place is never Fidelius - Severus has been there I'm sure.." he nods and I continue. "He'll Apparate us over. Then if everything checks out that'll leave Yaxleys."

They nod, and for the moment I feel awkward commanding a man twice my senior, and certainly triple my experience - but he looks ever the lost old man at the moment than ever.

As we walk out the back door, I brush up against Albus; "We'll get to him in time, Headmaster - my men are well trained; they can handle a death-eater or two."

He nods and says nothing; and I shake my head mentally preparing myself for any situation we end up in..

We all take a hold of Severus's arm; "Alright, on three.. one.. two.. THREE!"

* * *

Read and Review!

I'm looking for a Beta Proof-Read/Sentence Structure Helper. The whole story is already written out on many pages of notes; I just need someone to help me while writing it. If anyone's interested let me know! Thanks!


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